


Black & Blue

by cake_and_kuyashii



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Hanahaki, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sorry Not Sorry, Trope Exploration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cake_and_kuyashii/pseuds/cake_and_kuyashii
Summary: “You don’t know?” The doctor looked back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. Yuzu’s hand tightened around Shoma’s. They glanced at each other, then back at the doctor, shaking their heads in tandem. The doctor gave them a tight-lipped and pitying smile, like he’d seen it all before. Like he knew how this would end.“Loving the other back is not enough. For your bloom to be cured, for it to disappear, the patient must believe you.”Or, all aboard the ultimate pain train, Cake’s dual hanahaki with a dash of extra suffering.





	1. Prologue : Petals

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wasn't planning on releasing any of this until after I had completed Konpeito, to keep myself sane and I am hesitant to do so. However, due to recent events in KSAS, I wanted to get the prologue at least up as soon as possible. As usual, I will leave this unlocked for a few days before locking it. If you need an invitation to AO3 please don't hesitate to ask me! I am happy to send invites! :) 
> 
> You can also follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cakeandkuyashii) for updates on all my fic and little extras such as playlists and progress reports, and peeks at WIPs.

The first time it happened, Shoma almost didn’t notice.

He felt a tickle in his throat and didn’t think anything of it, curling his hand into a fist and coughing, not even skipping a beat in his conversation with Keiji. They were rinkside, freshly done with official practice, chatting idly about where they’d go to eat tonight with the team. He paused when he saw Keiji’s eyes widen, almost fearful, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“What?” Shoma blinked at him owlishly, confused.

Keiji simply pointed at his chin, finger hovering but not brushing it, mouth opening and closing now but no words coming out.

Shoma reached a hand up to touch his own face, starting at the corner of his lip and working down, wondering idly why Keiji looked so worried, so scared, thinking it must just be spit or something and why-

His fingers brushed the soft, curled edges of the tiny, oval petal and he felt his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. He pulled it gently away from his chin, staring down at his fingers, the velvety blue petal stuck to them now.

“Oh.”

He rubbed the petal between his fingers, staring at it, knowing what it meant. Knowing who it meant. _Shit_ …

“Shoma…” Keiji sounded frightened, brow creased with worry, eyes full of concern. He reached his hand out, hesitantly, unsure if Shoma even wanted the comfort.  
  
Shoma shook his head, and Keiji dropped his hand back to his side.

“I know...um...can you get Mihoko?” He whispered softly.

Keiji nodded and took off jogging immediately. Shoma stared down at the petal, curled his hand around it, gently, so he wouldn’t crush it. Then he bit into the knuckles of his closed fist and screamed.

\---

The first time it happened, Yuzuru knew right away.

He’d struggled to repress the cough storming, clawing its way up out of his lungs, felt like his throat was bursting at the seams, the entire length of the time he was stuck on the podium. His fingers twitched against Shoma’s side, against Javi’s. Curled deeper into the fabric there, on both waists, nails scraping against the sequins of Shoma’s top, catching in the silky fabric of Javi’s. He fought to keep his face even and his smile bright, keep the fear out of his eyes as the stream of flash bulbs and shutter clicks paraded on, seemingly unending, time moving so slow he wondered if it had stopped, if he’d be stuck in this moment forever, choking back a cloud of petals.

Shoma had noticed, had glanced up at him curiously, tilted his head. Big, dark doe eyes wide, questioning. Innocent, unaware how he was cutting straight Yuzu straight to his core with just one look. Yuzu gave a quick shake of his head, a tiny smile with the corner of his mouth, tried to reassure with his eyes - _It’s nothing. I’m fine._ Shoma held his gaze a moment, to let him know, wordlessly, that he wasn’t convinced. But he had left it alone, looked back to the expectant cameras.

The parting glance he’d given Yuzu once they’d left the ice, biting into his lip, worry apparent, stuck in Yuzu’s mind now, as he buckled over in the small private changing room, clutching his stomach and coughing, coughing, coughing. His chest, his throat, burned from the effort, from the strain, as tiny cloud after tiny, swirling cloud of dark black rose petals, edged with deep crimson, fluttered delicately to the ground from his mouth. A drastic, ironic, contrast to how violently racked his body was, shaking with every cough.

Black and red. _Loco_. His first thought made him bark out a short, sharp laugh, one more puff of petals coasting out into the air, floating down to join the others at his feet as the next laugh turned into a choked sob.

_What now? What the hell do I do now?_  
  



	2. Questions & Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mouth fell open and a laugh tore itself from his throat, along with a cloud of deep black and crimson petals, blowing up into Javi’s face on the wind of Yuzu’s breath. The world felt like it went into slow motion. The image, implanting itself, burning it’s way onto Yuzu’s brain forever - Javi, wholly unimpressed, eyebrows raised and lips pressed together as an array of petals blew up into his face, then scattered out onto Yuzu’s face, his shoulders, the couch around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came a little bit faster, as planned! I'm trying a slightly different style - at least I think I am. You can tell me what you think! Managed to keep it in the shorter format as well, at least for now. :) As usual I will unlock this for a few days and then lock it again. Remember you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cakeandkuyashii) now too to get updates on my fic. Thank you to everyone in KSSC and KSAS for the encouragement during the writing of this chapter. Hope you enjoy. <3 I'm very excited to get into how Takachida fit into this, but it's still a little ways away yet. :) Let me know what you think!

Shoma sat wedged between Mihoko and Keiji, who had insisted on coming with them to find the nearest specialist. _Rare, but not uncommon._ Mihoko had said that, and squeezed his shoulder, in an attempt to reassure him. _Conditional._ Like always, she had known just what to do, who to call. She’d chewed her lip and shaken her head when Shoma asked hesitantly if they should tell Kobayashi, inform the JSF. _Not yet._ She was strong. He wasn’t used to seeing her look afraid.

They had to go to Seoul. There wasn’t anyone on hand at the Olympic site to deal with this sort of condition, no specialists available. Rare, but not uncommon. There were three in Seoul. One who spoke Japanese.

Shoma stared down at his hands, where he gripped a tiny plastic baggie with the solitary and slightly wrinkled blue petal inside. This was the only one, so far. Depending on the light, sometimes it looked a little purple. It looked a little bit curled up. Like it hadn’t unfurled all the way yet. Hadn’t fully bloomed. Shoma supposed that was probably a good thing. He sighed and shoved the bag inside the pocket of his team jacket, offering a concerned looking Keiji a small, tight smile. Mihoko squeezed his shoulder again. The journey passed in a tense silence - Shoma drifted off for most of it.

The herbioculturist’s office looked surprisingly like a regular doctor’s office. The only major difference were framed, hand-illustrated guides of different flower varieties, and charts depicting different types of hanahaki blooms. There were also a menacing amount of potted plants and flowers, Shoma thought, feeling a bit swallowed up by the big, sweeping palm fronds on either side of the bench they were waiting on. Intimidated, by all the hanging pots of climbing ivy dotting the walls, in between the framed charts and diagrams.

A woman with a clipboard and small wireframe glasses, dressed in a clean and crisp white uniform and hair pulled up into a tightly wound bun emerged from the sterile-looking, automatic white door leading to the examination rooms.

“Uno Shoma?” She announced, looking around the room. Shoma blinked and raised his hand. They were the only ones waiting. She smiled and bowed, motioning for them to move into the corridor now opened before them. “The doctor will see you now.”

The hallway beyond was less dotted with plants, much to Shoma’s relief. The walls were plain, white, clinical. The nurse led them to the third room on the left. There were more charts, a tiny well-kept bonsai on the doctor’s desk. But nothing else. It was all chrome, and cold, and somehow that was just as menacing as the waiting room overflowing with flora.

The doctor was short, round. Old, kinda. She smiled and Shoma smiled back reflexively. She looked at the three of them, back and forth between them.

“Shoma?” She inquired, and motioned to the examination table.

Oh, right. Shoma nodded and stepped forward, walking over and hopping up onto the rectangular steel tabletop, with the expected tear-away white paper cover on top. He dug his hands into his pockets, pulling the tiny baggie with the petal inside out to hold in his lap again.

“So when did your bloom start showing?” The doctor asked as Mihoko handed her the paperwork they’d filled out in the waiting room, giving it a cursory look over.

“Today.” Shoma held out the bag. “Um. I brought this.”

“Oh. Thank you.” The doctor pushed herself over to the table without leaving her rolling chair, taking the bag from Shoma and staring at the petal through the bag. She raised an eyebrow. “Just one petal?”  
  
Shoma nodded.  
  
“Huh. Interesting.” The doctor rolled herself back to her desk and placed the bag under a microscope, “It must be very newly realized...do you have any idea who this is for?”

Shoma felt the blush starting to creep up his jaw, as Mihoko and Keiji looked at him expectantly. Great. This was one way for them to find out. 

“Mmm. Yes.” Shoma blinked. Two sets of eyes, stared, still, while the other pair stared into the microscope. Shoma shuffled uncomfortably on the table. “Um. I know. Who. Who he is.”

Keiji’s face immediately betrayed his “I knew it” response. Mihoko looked surprised, but only for a second, and she smiled, encouragingly. She glanced sideways at Keiji, who met her eyes and shook his head quickly. _Not me!_ Shoma giggled.

“Well, that’s good.” The doctor said, looking up finally from the microscope. She cleared her throat and folded her hands in her lap. “I hope, for your sake, that he returns your feelings.”

Mihoko and Keiji looked at the doctor so quickly Shoma was surprised their heads didn’t fly off.

“Why?” Mihoko asked, before Shoma could.

“This is wisteria.” She said simply. “Blue moon, to be specific.”

Mihoko sucked her breath in sharply. Shoma frowned, nose wrinkling as he tilted his head slightly to the side. Why did she do that? What was so bad about wisteria? Keiji looked a bit dazed as well, chewing his bottom lip and furrowing his brow. Concerned.

“Sorry, um...what does that mean?” Shoma asked, embarrassed to be the only one out of the loop.

“Wisteria has several meanings. Serious devotion is one of them. According to your culture, so is unrequited love. To endure, even when faced with heartache.” The doctor was clipped, formal. A perfect bad news delivery. “It looks like your coach or your friend here might be able to tell you more about that. What’s the story - Fuji Musume?” She paused to look at Keiji and Mihoko, waiting for Mihoko to nod before returning her attention to Shoma. “Maybe a story for the train ride back. You’ll need to make a decision on what you want to do about your bloom fairly quickly. Wisteria is poisonous.”

Shoma felt dazed. Like the doctor had walked over and slapped him until his ears were ringing and his vision went hazy. He stared blankly, blinking rapidly, brain trying to process everything she’d just said. Serious devotion...unrequited love...poisonous…

“If you experience any of the symptoms of acute wisteria poisoning, you need to tell someone immediately. Your life could be at risk. ” The doctor continued, “A burning sensation in your mouth. Excessive sweating. Headache. Abdominal pain, including nausea, vomiting, diarrhea. Confusion. Eventually, collapse.”

Shoma felt faint _now_ but not from the bloom. His mind was racing, his pulse hammering so hard in his throat he felt like his veins might pop out of his skin. This was bad, huh? Really bad. He gripped the edge of the steel table to steady himself, grateful for the cool touch of the metal.

“Have you considered whether or not to proceed with the surgery? We could get you booked in for the procedure before you return to Japan, if you’re happy to proceed.” The doctor’s question sent a chill down his spine.

“I...no...what…” Shoma struggled for words, glancing desperately, pleadingly, at Mihoko for help.

“We haven’t discussed his options, yet. We only found out today. We wanted to come here first, for an assessment.” Mihoko intervened, taking the hint and calmly taking control of the conversation.

Shoma let out a tiny sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure where he would be or what he would do without Mihoko. Or Keiji, for that matter. They were his rock, his grounding force. If he was titanium, they were the alloys he bonded with to become stronger. He made a mental note to distribute one hug to each of them later, when this was over.

“I see. Let’s proceed with the examination then. I’ll give you some literature and you can let me know if you’d like to proceed after you’ve had a look at it and some time to think it over.” The doctor said as she stood, approaching the examination table. “I would recommend you do not to take _too_ much time to decide.”

\---

The ride back to the Olympic site was as silent as the one out had been. Mihoko squeezed his arm reassuringly as he gazed down at the pamphlets in his hands. _Hanahaki Surgery and You. Removing Your Bloom & What Happens Next. _He felt numb, still, and dazed, surreal. Was this really happening? And now? Why him? Why now?

Keiji walked with him back to their room in the village, waiting until they were alone in the hallway to speak.

“It’s Yuzu, isn’t it?”

Shoma sputtered and shot Keiji a dirty look. “Really? You want to say that any louder?” 

Keiji just raised his eyebrows and waited. Shoma sighed.

“Yeah. It is.”

“Are you gonna tell him?” Keiji asked gently. They were before the door to their team apartment now, Keiji fishing in his jacket pocket for the keycard, knowing Shoma would take much longer to find it, but lingering anyway, giving him a chance to respond before there were other ears around.

“I’d rather die.” Shoma replied, flat and deadpan.

Keiji punched him in the arm, _hard_. Shoma cried out in surprise and dismay, glaring up at him.

“ _Ow_ , Keiji!” He whined. Keiji glared even back at him, making him scowl a little as he rubbed his arm. “Why?”

“It’s not funny, Shoma. You _could_ die. If you don’t. If he doesn’t...” Keiji frowned, shaking his head slowly. “Just...don’t joke about that, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry.” Shoma mumbled, feeling suddenly sheepish. And a little afraid. Keiji wasn’t wrong.

\---

Yuzu had tried to avoid any company, to make it easier to hide his bloom, but Javi was persistent, and now they were sitting together on the couch in the Team Spain apartment, sharing a McDonald’s cheat meal and half-watching some brainless action movie on the television. The rest of the team weren’t in, so, Yuzu reckoned, at least there was some sort of privacy, in case he had to run to the bathroom, mask the sounds of his coughing, hide the black and red petals that followed. Hopefully Javi would be none the wiser, and he could keep pretending this wasn’t happening, not to him, not at the Olympics, not until this was all over and-

His eyes went wide as he felt a tickle in the back of his throat. Oh no. No, not now. Javi was slouched on the other end of the couch, head propped lazily on his fist, snacking idly on a box of fries. His legs were stretched out and half-tangled, comfortably, with Yuzu’s. But enough that Yuzu couldn’t disentangle himself fast enough, not without raising alarm, concern, suspicion in Javi. He couldn’t afford that. His brain scrambled as the tickle spread it’s way up his throat and down into his lungs. He turned his head away from Javi and brought his hand up to cover his mouth, willing the cough to please, please, be as quiet and petal-free as possible, please.

He wasn’t sure if Javi was looking and couldn’t afford to check as he felt - oh, thank god - only one petal flutter up out of his throat, into his hand.

“Yuzu.” 

Yuzu yelped and nearly flung the petal, Javi’s voice was RIGHT next to his ear, Javi looming over his shoulder. He scrambled, shoving it roughly back into his mouth, chewing and beating at Javi frantically with his hands.

“Yuzu, what is that? Let me see.” Javi braced himself against Yuzu’s flailing arms, trying to snake an arm up between the windmilling limbs to grab his chin.

“Javi! Go away!” He whined, still trying to rip the petal up between his teeth, failing, “Just coughing, none of your business!”

“You’re lying. Show me. Show me or else!” Javi threatened, making his fingers into claws and wiggling them at Yuzu.

Yuzu’s eyes widened in horror and he flailed harder, shaking his head emphatically. “No!” He swallowed, finally, but petals weren’t great for swallowing, especially big baccara rose petals, soggily chewed on ones that weren’t very torn up at all. It just tickled his throat _more_ , and threw him off enough that Javi now, easily, had him pinned, his fingers digging in to Yuzu’s sides, tickling him mercilessly.  

Laughter bubbled up in Yuzu’s throat, laughter and petals. He clamped his mouth firmly shut, a high and frustrated “hmmmmmm” the constant sound emanating from his lips as Javi continued his assault. He wriggled, squirmed, tried desperately to escape but it was no use. His throat felt like it was going to burst, he could hardly breathe and he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold it any longer.

His mouth fell open and a laugh tore itself from his throat, along with a cloud of deep black and crimson petals, blowing up into Javi’s face on the wind of Yuzu’s breath. The world felt like it went into slow motion. The image, implanting itself, burning it’s way onto Yuzu’s brain forever - Javi, wholly unimpressed, eyebrows raised and lips pressed together as an array of petals blew up into his face, then scattered out onto Yuzu’s face, his shoulders, the couch around them. Javi blinked down at him as he let out a defeated whine, but his fingers stopped torturing Yuzu’s sides.

“How long.” Javi said bluntly. “How long, Yuzu.”

Yuzu glowered up at him, slapping his hands away from his sides and scooting back so he could sit upright, brushing petals from his top as he did. “Just since the podium. Not that it is any of your business. They’re not for _you_.”

Javi flinched and Yuzu bit his lip, regretful. That was maybe a little mean.

“That’s good, because I don’t know how I would explain this to my girlfriend.” Javi said, voice measured and calm, making Yuzu feel even guiltier for snapping. “Who are they for, Yuzu?”

“Shoma. They’re for Shoma.” Yuzu sighed, “Look at them Javi, they look like his Loco, maybe that’s when...that’s when I…”  
  
“Fell in love?” Yuzu nodded and Javi laughed, “You and the rest of the world. Hey.” His voice turned low, serious. “Have you talked to Brian about this? Does he know?”

Yuzu shook his head.  
  
“Yuzu...does anyone know? Besides me?”  
  
Yuzu shook his head again. Javi sighed.  
  
“I want to...wait. Until back in Japan. After Olympics. Wanna just enjoy them.” Yuzu explained lamely, realizing how stupid that must sound, but Javi only nodded.

“Okay. Promise me you’ll tell him, as soon as you get seen. And I won’t tell. Maybe I can help you talk to Shoma, we can make a plan? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Yuzu looked at Javi gratefully, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back quickly. “Javi...thank you. I promise.”

He glanced down at the mess of petals on the couch, starting to gather them up into his hands. He felt relieved, a little, to have someone know. A comrade. Someone he could pour his worries out to. Maybe not now, but soon. _What do I do? What if he doesn’t love me back? How do I tell him? Where do we go from here? What will people say?_ But for now, he let the questions bubble up, held them inside like he had tried to do with his bloom, as he and Javi tidied up the couch in a comfortable silence, so they could settle back into their movie like Yuzu hadn’t just laughed a storm of rose petals into Javi’s face. Javi knew that was exactly what he needed, no matter how bizarre it seemed. Javi was a good friend.

\---

“Daisuke...come here a second.”

Tatsuki’s voice was high, a sense of urgency implied. Dai looked up from his phone, pushing himself up from the hotel bed and walking out into the attached living room. He’d opted to stay here so he could bring Tatsuki with him to Pyeongchang while he worked media. They didn’t like to be apart. Tatsuki had even laughed when Dai had wiggled his eyebrows and implied they could re-enact their first time sharing a room at the Olympics. But it was better to stay here, so that no one knew, no one saw. Less chance for any rumors to fly. They liked it better that way.

The evening news was on, showing clips of the men’s figure skating podium from the day before. Dai smiled, feeling the pride swell in his chest all over again. Yuzuru, Shoma. Truly amazing. Japan 1-2 finish. Watching it from his position felt utterly surreal. He walked over to Tatsuki, arms sliding around him to encircle his waist, resting his chin over his left shoulder.

“Yeah? What is it?” He murmured, turning his head to press a quick kiss to the crook of Tatsuki’s neck.

“Dai, please, you’re insatiable.” Tatsuki lifted a hand to push his face away, but his other hand dropped to hold his in place, and he leaned into the touch, leaned his head against Dai’s, smiling slightly. “Look. When they’re on the podium. Were you watching, live?”

Dai hummed in affirmation, hooking his chin over Tatsuki’s shoulder.

“Did you notice? Look at Yuzuru there...really look...does that look familiar to you?” He lowered his voice, fingers finding Dai’s and squeezing them gently. “Like Sochi. His ribs. Look.”

Dai frowned, watching the footage intently. Watched the way Yuzuru’s torso sort of...flinched. More than once. As if he were fighting to choke something back. Watched the way Shoma felt it underneath his fingertips, the way he looked up at Yuzuru. He felt his heart sink.

“Yeah...yeah it does. Do you think…”  
  
“Mmm.” Tatsuki slipped out of his grip, turning to face him. “Keep an eye on them.” He smiled, but his eyes were sad. He squeezed Dai’s hand before letting go. “Must be something about the Olympics.”


	3. Swings & Misses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want the surgery.” 
> 
> Keiji’s eyes shot open, but he squinted immediately in the morning light, cursing under his breath. He stared blearily at Shoma, eyes clouded and heavy with sleep, processing his words.
> 
> “What?” 
> 
> “I don’t want the surgery. I want a chance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer than planned! I wanted to get the update for Konpeito up first and it also took longer than I had planned. I know the ending feels a little abrupt but please bear with me, all will be revealed in time! :) As usual, this will be unlocked for the update but locked again after a few days. Thank you to the wonderful [capra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capra/pseuds/capra) for the beta. And as usual, I crave validation, so please leave some love if you liked it and with your thoughts and theories (I love reading them)! Thank you for reading. <3

Keiji and Shoma had sprawled out across Shoma’s bed together, looking through the pamphlets but talking about anything else while they browsed the deceptively cheerful pages. The glossy pages were full of brightly colored graphics, illustrations with simplistically drawn people. Tiny circle head people, making exaggerated sad and worried faces at the tiny circle head herbioculturist’s office. Tiny circle head people with pink and yellow flowers falling from their mouths. Tiny circle head people weeping over tiny rectangular coffins. It was garish, and ham-fisted. _Get the surgery or die. Don’t be stupid._

Shoma didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because now it was morning and he was squinting against the sun coming in the apartment window. Keiji was still stretched out beside him, head laying on top of his folded arms, facing Shoma, snoring softly. Shoma frowned. He wasn’t used to be the first one up and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. He reached over and let his hand hover for a second, undecided, before poking him firmly in the cheek. Keiji wrinkled his nose. Shoma flicked him squarely between the eyes. Hard.

Keiji groaned. “Shoma, fuck off.” 

“I don’t want the surgery.”

Keiji’s eyes shot open, but he squinted immediately in the morning light, cursing under his breath. He stared blearily at Shoma, eyes clouded and heavy with sleep, processing his words.

“What?”   
  
“I don’t want the surgery. I want a chance.”  

Keiji said nothing for a while, just stared back at Shoma. Shoma couldn’t really read his face. Eventually, he reached out and placed his thumb squarely on the space between Shoma’s eyebrows, then rubbed, down to the bridge of his nose and back up again. Firm. A few times. Shoma blinked.

“You were frowning. You’re gonna get wrinkles.” Keiji murmured, dropping his hand back to rest by his face. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning Shoma’s face. “Are you sure? I thought you’d rather die.”

Shoma sighed heavily and rolled over onto his back, folding his arms up to rest under his head. “I don’t wanna just give up without even trying. Without a fight.”

“I can stay.” Keiji offered simply. “I want to stay, anyway. For the closing ceremony.”

Shoma turned his head to smile at Keiji. “You’re a good friend.” He knew, what Keiji was offering without saying, that he would help. Help Shoma figure out what to do. How to do it. They had a few days, now, before everything wrapped up and they’d be shuffled from presser to presser before parting again to prepare for Worlds. Maybe that was enough time.

Shoma’s throat felt scratchy, itchy. He frowned and pushed himself up, turning towards Keiji and leaning on his elbows. His face contorted as something squeezed in his chest, in his lungs, suddenly and urgently.

“Shoma, are you okay?”

The words had barely left Keiji’s lips before a flurry of blue petals were leaving Shoma’s. Shoma bent over further, coughing into his fist, eyes widening in alarm.

“Keiji?!” He managed to sputter weakly, two rogue petals flying out from his mouth.

Keiji scrambled up onto his knees and shuffled over to Shoma, wrapping an arm protectively around his shoulders, bracing him with it as his body shook. Shoma leaned into the touch, frightened and grateful, staring with wide-eyed fear at every little burst of purpley-blue velvety petals swirling through the air on the wind of his own hacking breaths. Those were coming from _him._ From his _lungs._

It stopped, mercifully, and Shoma stayed crouched, breath shaky, pressing himself firmly against Keiji to stay grounded.

“I’ve never seen it like that in real life before.” Keiji mumbled, free hand reaching down to pick up a petal, rub it between his forefinger and his thumb. A tiny shiver ran through him and he took his arm away from Shoma’s back, using his hands to start brushing the mess of petals together into a neat, orderly pile.   
  
Shoma nodded, numbly, and sat back onto his heels, staring down at the little tidy pile of petals. _Poisonous._ His stomach felt a little nauseous, and he’d just hacked up a bunch of blue flower petals from his throat, but otherwise he felt fine. He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed up and down his own upper arms, thinking. Worrying.

“I should tell him now. While we’re still here.” Shoma said, quietly but firmly. The idea made his stomach feel queasier. He had never wanted to tell him at all, ever. Before this happened, he’d never planned on it or even wished for it. He’d been happy to keep it tucked away inside his heart, where it was secret, where it was safe.

“Let’s figure out how you can get him alone. I’ll help.”

\---

>>What if I jump out from behind a corner and yell it at him?

Yuzu flopped out across his Olympic apartment bed, holding his phone up over his face to send the message to Javi. He had gone back to Spain, in the downtime, interview after interview lined up and crammed in between now and his return to Pyeongchang. Now Yuzu was lobbing confession ideas at him over text, spurred on by Javi's best point yet - _“If you tell him now, we won't even have to tell Brian!”_

Yuzu's phone buzzed. Javi. He tapped the screen.

>>Are you trying to kill him or confess to him?

Yuzu frowned, slightly pouty, as another message came through.

>>This is Shoma we are talking about. Lol. You would give him a heart attack.

Yuzu typed back rapidly, slightly annoyed.

>>Wrong, Javi. Shoma isn't afraid of anything.

He huffed out a little frustrated breath as the ‘typing’ dots flashed up on his screen.

>>Still. Confusing. Alarming. Next idea. Go.

Yuzu groaned and pressed his phone against his face, closing his eyes. This shouldn't be so difficult. He'd known Shoma forever. Shoma was easy to talk to. Shoma never made him feel awkward, no matter how much he ended up babbling. Shoma.

He lifted his phone again and stared blankly at the screen, thinking. What would be a good way to confess? Something sincere, so Shoma would know he wasn't joking. Something romantic. He drew his knees up towards his chest so he could kick his feet idly up and down in the air. Romantic…

>>What if I give him a rose?

Yuzu smiled as Javi typed back, picturing how such a confession would go. Shoma would probably be startled, look at him with that cute little head tilt, and ask him what it was for. And he-

>>Bad taste. Aren’t your lungs full of roses? Kind of twisted.

Yuzu’s smile turned into a tightly pressed, frustrated line as he groaned out loud at his phone. What good was Javi’s help if it he was just going to shoot everything down?!

>>What’s your idea then, genius?   
  
Yuzu huffed, even though Javi wasn’t there to see it.

>>Maybe give him something he likes. Like a video game. Or a hamburger.

Yuzu suddenly wished he could punch Javi through the phone.

>>A hamburger. Seriously.

Javi sent back a shrug emoji. Yuzu sighed and tossed his phone down beside him on the bed. This was turning out to be a lot harder than he thought it would be.

\---

The moment came for Yuzu without any planning at all, during rehearsals.

Shoma was leaning on the barrier next to him, his head resting on top of his folded arms. Everything about him just looked _soft._ His fluffy cloud of hair. How he must be to hug right now, wrapped up in the bubbly white Olympic Team Japan jacket. His little crooked and sleepy smile, lips tugged up on one side, lazily. The way he was looking at Yuzu, right now. Right now…Yuzu swallowed the lump in his throat, praying desperately it was made of nerves and not big black and crimson petals.

“Hey, Shoma…” Yuzu started, “I really-”

But Shoma wasn't listening, Shoma was distracted. Yuzu's eyes widened and his sentence stopped short at _what_ Shoma seemed to be distracted by. Shoma was…was Shoma really…

“Your butt looks extra big in your coat.” Shoma said, as flatly as ever but with a spark of mischief in his eyes. Teasing. Playful. Flirting? Yuzu's pulse leapt up, beating wildly in his throat and his confidence was suddenly compromised.

“Shut up! Why are you looking?!” Yuzu was flustered, trying to cover it with a giggle, knocking his shoulder against Shoma's, stepping away, hoping his face wouldn't turn red, all the way to the tips of his ears.

The moment passed.

\---

“So you told him you liked his butt, but not that you liked him? What is actually wrong with you?” Keiji sighed and rapped the top of Shoma's head with his knuckles. “Dummy.”

“I didn't! I said it looked big. That's different.” Shoma protested, slapping weakly at Keiji's retreating hand.

This was it. The gala was finally here. The last chance, for a while. Shoma knew he had to take it. Time wasn't on his side. He didn't have the luxury. This morning he had felt a little dizzy, clutching the cold porcelain of the apartment sink, wishing the chill would help keep him steady, as he coughed approximately three clouds of further unfurled blue petals into the white basin. He had tried to wash them down the sink but they wouldn’t go. Keiji had caught him scraping weakly at the sides of the sink, trying to gather all the wet petals into his hands and dump them into the toilet. Luckily, Keiji had a better idea that wouldn't flood their shared team apartment, and had redirected Shoma's fistfuls of petals into spare plastic bags from earlier grocery shopping, to be tied off and shoved deeper down below the garbage from the day's breakfast. Secret, and safe.

Now, Shoma was pacing in the locker room, dressed for his gala exhibition, with a casually dressed Keiji leaning against the lockers, trying his best to prep Shoma for his confession, to keep him calm.

“I won’t be there to push you. You need to grab the chance and tell him. It’s easy, right? ‘Yuzu, I like you.’ Say it with me.” Keiji coached gently.

“Yuzu, I like you.” Shoma mumbled, flush of red already creeping up his jaw.

“Again!” Keiji prompted, clapping his hands together for emphasis.

“Yuzu, I like you.” Shoma mumbled only a little bit louder, glaring at Keiji as his blush crept higher.

“Louder! You want him to hear you, right? One more time! With strength!” Keiji shook both fists at Shoma, unable to hide his own grin.

“I hate you, you know that, right?” Shoma grumbled, but Keiji just tapped his own wrist, urging him on. Shoma sighed and rolled his eyes, clearing his throat. “Yuzu, I like you.” Firmer, louder.

Keiji nodded his approval, his slow smile genuine, and warm. “Go get him. Do your best.”

And Shoma tried. He really did.

“Yuzu…” He started, reaching out to tap his arm, gently but firmly, demanding a moment of his attention, moments before he was due to step on the ice and skate his exhibition, just enough time to spit out his confession.

But Yuzu was so beautiful, sparkling and glittering under the exhibition lights, bedecked in gemstones and white feathers. A prince, a swan, an enigma. His head, tilted back in a laugh, an answer to someone else before he turned to face Shoma, exposing the milky, soft flesh of his throat. His stupid, endearing laugh, bubbly and annoying and still so charming, spilling out from his mouth, from his pearly pink lips, which must be so soft, so nice to kiss. His dark brown eyes, squished up into happy crescents, with his joy, his glee, unburdened after his long fight, his victory, shining with a new light, a new happiness. It seemed like slow motion, to Shoma, and he wished he could stretch this moment into forever, these precious seconds.

But he couldn’t. And he needed to speak, now, quickly, while he had a chance, before Yuzu stepped onto the ice, before they were swept up in all the chaos awaiting them after he finished.

But he didn’t.

All of his words dried up, stuck in his throat, stuck with the petals, scratchy and dry and cumbersome.

Yuzu looked at him curiously, head tilted, waiting for what he had to say.

“Good luck.”

Yuzu blinked, a little confused, and gave Shoma a strange smile, almost disappointed, nodding.

And then he was gone. Shoma balled his hands into fists and let his disappointment with himself sink steadily into his gut, spread over his belly. Next time...whenever that was...next time, he would be brave. He bit his lip, worrying it back and forth as he watched Yuzu skate, wondering how long that would be. If he had enough time. There was still Worlds, right? That wasn’t even a month away. He could knock heads with Keiji, regroup and really plan something this time. He didn’t want to think, not yet, about what would happen if Yuzu didn’t like him back. Worry about that later...later…

He laughed, quietly, nervously, to himself and folded his arms across his stomach, hoping the queasy feeling was just nerves and disappointment. Maybe he should go to the bathroom, just in case, in just a moment...he wanted to finish watching Yuzu skate first.

\---

Tatsuki wasn’t very good at being incognito. It wasn’t really in his nature. Dai couldn’t complain too much. No one had really noticed or said anything, or maybe they were just pretending not to, but either way, his attempt at a disguise seemed to be going well enough, to be fair. He gazed, fondly, at his partner, dressed in a stylish, long black coat that stood out way too much, with a matching black face mask pulled up to cover his face from chin to nose. His hair was up, and tucked under a wool-knit hat, eyes a little hidden by his big, chunky-framed glasses. But he just looked so good - always so good - and so fashionable, that Dai felt anyone nearby would be able to clock him, his presence, his powerful aura. Tatsuki was trying to lean, casually as possible, against the wall and stare disinterestedly at his phone. Dai was standing next to him and wrapped up in staring probably too much at _him_...maybe that would actually be the giveaway. Dai sighed and tried to redirect his attention, to the hallway, to try and find the new silver medalist, so they could get the information they came for.

And there he was, rushing by so quickly they nearly missed him, looking worried, looking stressed, one arm clutching his stomach. His brow was furrowed and his lips turned into a frown, eyes frantically scanning the hallway.

“Hey, Shoma! Shoma!” Dai called out, waving his hand wildly until Shoma’s face found it and changed to a deer-in-headlights look - startled and slightly afraid. As if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.

But Shoma made an obedient little bee line over to Dai and Tatsuki. Tatsuki glanced up from his phone so he could nod at Shoma, then kept his eyes subtly trained on the younger man as Dai tried to engage him in conversation.

“Daisuke, Tatsuki. Hi. Um...do you know where the bathroom is?” Shoma seemed equal parts nervous and bashful, eyes darting back and forth between the two.

Dai laughed, sparing a quick surprised glance to Tatsuki at Shoma’s immediate read on who he was under his “disguise”, enjoying the height of Tatsuki’s raised eyebrows in response. He reached out to ruffle Shoma’s hair, grinning as Shoma blushed and grimaced under his affection.

“Yeah, sure, just keep going down the way you were and make a right. Everything alright? We have an interview later, yeah? You okay for that still?” Dai asked, giving his shoulder a quick friendly clap and shake.

Shoma nodded, a little too enthusiastically, and Dai noticed the little drops of sweat on his brow. How he looked a little pale. The way he covered his mouth to clear his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, see you then. I’m sorry, I really have to go.” Shoma bowed and waved with both hands, scuttling backwards before turning around to continue his race down the hall, arm dropping back down to fold across his stomach.

Dai smiled until Shoma was safely around the corner before he fell back on the wall next to Tatsuki and let out a tiny hiss. “Well, fuck.”

Tatsuki watched him carefully, giving him a moment to process before speaking, his voice gentle as he studied Dai’s face. “Do you think it’s like yours?”

“Yeah...Yeah, I do.” Dai said grimly, eyes still focused on the now empty space at the end of the hall, the last glimpse they’d had of Shoma before he’d rounded the corner. “But I think he thinks like you.”

Tatsuki reached out to clutch his fingers, briefly, a quick, gentle squeeze, in response. Dai glanced down at his fingers and Tatsuki’s retreating hand, then up to meet his eyes, curious.

“They’re in trouble, then, aren’t they?” Tatsuki said softly, his eyes holding apologies better left unsaid.


	4. Gifts & Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know, balloons just seems...really random. I still think you should just buy him a meat cake or something.” 
> 
> Yuzu pulled both his gloves off and threw them directly at Javi’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry! I hit a bad wall with this fic for a long long time! And this chapter is very tiny, and very filler. But I have already started on chapter 4 to make up for it, so I hope you can forgive me! Thank you to [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker) and [marmee_ginny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmee_ginny) for the beta. <3

Yuzuru wasn’t coming.

The news hit Shoma like a brick wall, sank in his stomach like a stone. 

Yuzuru wasn’t coming, and that meant Shoma couldn’t tell him. 

Keiji called him first, but Shoma just stared dully at his phone as it lit up and buzzed across the table, shaking against the wood. He didn’t want to answer yet. He didn’t know what to say. 

He still didn’t know what to say when they met at the airport and Keiji took the first opportunity he got to punch Shoma in the shoulder and hiss under his breath, “Dude, what the hell, why haven’t you been answering me?” 

Shoma shrugged, not meeting Keiji’s eyes. “Sorry. Practicing a lot. Don’t want to get distracted. Worlds.”

“Shoma, I _know_ that, same here, but _come on_.” Keiji groaned. “Talk to me. What are we going to do?” 

Shoma shrugged again. “Dunno.”

“ _Shoma_!” Keiji’s exasperation was clear. Shoma didn’t feel bad. Just numb.

They lost the chance to talk, then, as the group solidified before the security gates and Kobayashi started issuing instructions. Kazuki shuffled closer to them, too, so talking about it was definitely out for now. Keiji shot Shoma an annoyed look and let out a huff of breath. Shoma shrugged at him again, making a mental note to prepare for an earful later in their hotel. 

\---

“Yuzu, does he even like balloons?”  
  
Javi sounded as exasperated as Yuzu felt. Yuzu flopped onto his back, letting his arms fall out to his sides and bounce off the rinkside floor, skates still hanging over the small lip of the rink edge. He kicked the heels of his blades up and down against the ice as he thought, grateful no one was really around at the minute to reprimand him for it, little chunks of ice flecking up with each dig of his heel. 

He wasn’t allowed to do much, yet, but he didn’t want to lose his conditioning, not with his very first ice show of his own coming up. He wanted to at _least_ be able to skate, even if he couldn’t jump. So he’d arranged to try skating, just skating, just to stay in shape, at least once a week as part of his rehab.

“I don’t know that he does _not_ like balloons. Why not balloons?” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. 

Worlds was days away and Yuzu was bitter about it for two reasons. One, he wasn’t going to be there, because of his ankle. Two, Shoma was, and he wasn’t, and that meant he still couldn’t tell Shoma. They probably wouldn’t see each other, now, for at least another month, and the petals were starting to become a problem.

This morning he’d nearly gotten caught by his mother, coughing fistfuls of petals into the kitchen garbage, quickly stuffing them down with hastily grabbed and balled up paper towels. And again, in the car on the way to the rink, he’d felt the customary tickle at the back of his throat and panicked, eyes widening and checking the rearview mirror to see if his mother noticed his discomfort. His throat had tightened reflexively, fingers balling into fists, his nails pressing hard half-moons into his palms. But luckily, they hadn’t come, and luckily, she hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. 

“I don’t know, balloons just seems...really random. I still think you should just buy him a meat cake or something.” 

Yuzu pulled both his gloves off and threw them directly at Javi’s head.

\---

“Ignoring your friends isn’t nice, Shoma. I said I would help, didn’t I? I meant it.” 

Keiji leaned back against the door to their room as he scolded Shoma. Shoma grunted and flopped down in a starfish position on one of the beds, face down. 

“I just want to focus on Worlds,” he mumbled into the pillow, but loud enough Keiji could still make it out. “What can you even do anyway? You can’t make me better.”  
  
“Can you even compete like this?” Keiji prodded gently, his tone softening, “Is it getting worse?”

Shoma pressed his lips together, blew a frustrated stream of air out through his nose, and nodded his head slightly, face still smushed into the pillow. 

“Can’t you just text him?” Keiji nudged again. 

Shoma shook his head back and forth, still refusing to look up and remove his face from the lovely, soft, not-20-questioning-him pillow. Keiji didn’t get it. It wasn’t that easy. Shoma couldn’t explain it, but it just didn’t feel right. Confessing by text? That was stupid. What if Yuzu didn’t respond? Even worse, what if he _read_ itand didn’t respond? That would be too much. He could never look Yuzu in the eyes again if that happened. 

Keiji let out a heavy sigh. Shuffled his weight against the door - Shoma could hear it. He was probably crossing his arms. He liked to do that to look more stern. 

“You know we’ll see Javi soon, right?” 

Shoma looked up sharply from his pillow. “Huh?” 

“Stars on Ice. And Legends. After Worlds. Javi will be there.” Keiji’s arms were crossed, just like Shoma had guessed. But his face was tired, drawn with worry. “So let’s talk to Javi. Maybe it will help us.”

Shoma chewed his lip, considering, before humming in affirmation, nodding firmly. 

“Let’s talk to Javi.”

\---

“Javi, wait!”

Yuzu’s distinctive voice rang out across the rink. Javi paused in his tracks, turning back with one eyebrow raised in query as Yuzu hopped off the ice, slightly out of breath, bent over with his hands on his knees. 

Javi frowned. Yuzu had never let his conditioning slip, even during his rehab, not by this much. And it wasn’t his asthma. How bad was his bloom getting, to be this labored from a quick skate across the rink? 

“You will see Shoma in Japan?” Yuzu asked, eager and hopeful, straightening back up again. 

Yuzu was biting his lip and his eyes were wide. His best puppy look. He wanted something. Javi eyed him up and down suspiciously and nodded. Yuzu smiled, small and shy. It was impossible not to smile back.

“Maybe you can give him something for me.”

\---

Watching Shoma’s skate was painful. It must have been worse in person. 

Dai looked haunted when he returned from his media duties for the night, face hollow, sunken, eyes far away. Mind somewhere else. Tatsuki embraced him when he came in, held him for a little longer than he normally would. He took him by the hand to tug him forward to the small kitchen unit of the hotel suite, where two hot teas were ready, waiting. 

Dai sat down at the table, hugging his tea more than drinking it. Tatsuki clutched his in one hand and rubbed Dai’s back lightly with the other, waiting for him to speak first.

“Did I look that bad?” Dai said finally, voice as shaken as he looked. 

“Worse,” Tatsuki said, pressing his fingertips more firmly into Dai’s back, tracing tiny circles, “They have time.”  

“Very reassuring, thank you professor,” Dai said dryly, and Tatsuki paused in his circles to flick Dai’s back instead, making him flinch.

“It is.” Tatsuki insisted, “It means we should stay back for now.” 

“But shouldn’t someone tell them?” Dai’s voice cracked slightly, a desperate sound, “Shouldn’t somebody help them? With what’s coming next? We could tell them…” 

He trailed off, staring down into his tea, already anticipating the words that would fall from Tatsuki’s lips next, sad and resigned.

“They have to find that out on their own.”


End file.
